I think my jaw drops around six inches. “Figure skating?!”
I watch the palm trees swaying in the Florida breeze and sigh happily. “Are palm trees actually pretty, or do we just associate them with vacation and good times?” I ask dreamily.
Ma elbows me, Goldie pats my head in mock condescension, and Babby nods and says, “That is a thinking question, Bella.”
Which makes me feel bad, for like the two millionth time, that I had complained about her coming.
Here’s the thing: Florida Babby is fun. Since we’d arrived yesterday, Babby has come to the beach with us, treated us all to lunch, and shopped with us in Aventura for a full hour before pleading senior citizenship and settling onto a bench with a book while we finished up. Now, as we sip tea after supper, staring out at the postcard view, Babby is the only one taking my prattling seriously.
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